a underaged girl could be wearing lingerie and shaking her ass in a grown man’s face begging him to take her and guess whaaat
hes still trash for fucking her
hes the adult. he has enough control and willpower to say no. he knows that fucking kids is wrong.
stop sympathizing with men and protecting them for falling “victim” to “teenage temptresses”
if you cant trust yourself to not fuck kids, even if they “tempt you” the problem is you, NOT the kid
When my husband [Carl Sagan] died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again.
Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful.
The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.
I think people have multiple loves of their lives.
I met one of mine in January. We shared a beautiful 5 months. He was wonderful. I miss him; some days the time we shared brings me joy, some nights I am choked by a crippling sadness knowing that we won’t share our lives and have a family. He encouraged and inspired me to be the best person I could be. To always grow. Always learn.
Take the time to smell your coffee before the cup graces your lips. Gin, music, laughter and bbq makes a fantastic Friday night.
The bar is so god damn high some days I feel like dating anyone else is a colossal waste of my time.
What the hell is with unsolicited dick pics? Even worse, what the fuck is with you asking to send one, I politely decline and you send one anyway?!
THEN you wonder why I don’t want to go on a date? Seriously? If you don’t respect my “no” via text message what makes you think I will feel safe in person?